


Lean On Me

by eternaleponine



Series: Where There Is A Flame [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Prequel, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8801176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: A little peek into what life is like for Octavia and Bellamy when they're at home.





	

"Hold on," Bellamy said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "I've gotta get this." He had Octavia set to a special ringtone so he would know when it was her calling; the last thing he wanted to do was miss a call from her when it might be important. He'd hated leaving her alone with their mom, but it had been most of three years now and nothing bad... well, nothing catastrophic... had happened. Still, every time he heard that ring, his stomach clenched, wondering if this would be the time it would be Octavia calling to tell him that his – their – mother had finally gone completely around the bend.

"Hey," he said, putting the phone to his ear. "What's up?"

"It's here," Octavia said, sounding like she'd just run a mile... or maybe sprinted up a flight of stairs. "It's here, Bell. What do I do?"

"What?" Bellamy had no idea what she was talking about, and it drove him crazy when his sister treated him as if he ought to be psychic. Yeah, sure, it used to be that he would mostly know what she needed without her saying it, but that was a long time ago, and her needs were a lot more complicated and he wasn't there to see her body language... like if she was pointing to something, which she very well might be, knowing her, forgetting that he couldn't see. "What's there, O?"

"The letter," she said. "I mean, the email. The email is sitting in my inbox, and I don't know what to do."

"Open it?" Bellamy suggested, and then it dawned on him _which_ email she was very likely referring to. "Open it, Octavia," he said. 

"But what if it's bad news?" she asked. "What if they say no? What if they don't want me?"

"They want you," Bellamy replied, even though it wasn't really a sure thing. Octavia was smart. Octavia had better grades than he had... but she wasn't an athlete like he was (which wasn't to say that she wasn't athletic, just that she wasn't pursuing it on more than a recreational level in college) so she wasn't getting recruited, and she wasn't going to be getting a scholarship. But they didn't make decisions based on that, right? That came after? They wouldn't say no to a prospective student who otherwise met admissions criteria just because there was no real certainty over whether they could pay for it, right? 

"But what if they _don't_?" Octavia objected. 

"Then one of the other schools will," Bellamy said, trying to sound reasonable. "This isn't the only school in the world, O."

"But it's the only one I want to go to," Octavia said, and her voice was softer than it had been, losing its slightly hysterical edge but gaining something else, and Bellamy didn't have to be psychic to fill in the blanks. It was the only school that she wanted to go to because he was there, even if he would only be there for one year while she was. Probably someone looking at their relationship from the outside might think that it was unhealthy, that they were codependent or something, but they weren't. It wasn't like that. It was just that they'd grown up knowing that the only people they had that they could 100% rely on was each other, and that had shaped them, and what was wrong with that? They'd survived these last three years when he'd been away and she'd been at home, and sure they texted and talked all the time, but they'd done it, and were probably stronger for it. But it didn't mean that Octavia wanted to end up somewhere where seeing him would be even more difficult than it was now.

"There's only one way to find out," Bellamy said. "Just open the email. I'll be right here."

He could hear her take a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "Here goes." 

There were a few seconds of silence, and then a screech. "I did it!" she said, and he had to hold the phone away from his ear to avoid damage to his eardrum. "I got in!"

"See?" Bellamy replied, grinning so wide it actually kind of hurt his face. "I told you you would." 

"I know," she said. "I know. But I actually did it. Me."

"Yes, you," he said. "Congratulations!"

There was some more (slightly subdued) screeching, and then he could just imagine her dancing around her room (or wherever she was) in celebration. "So what happens now?" she asked, when she finally remembered that she had him on the phone. 

"Now you wait for your admissions packet," Bellamy said. "That will have your official offer letter, which you'll need to sign and return with your deposit for admissions – and don't worry, if Mom's short I can help cover it – and probably your financial aid letter, and stuff about housing and all of that. When you get it, we'll sort through it all. Maybe I'll make a trip to see you for the weekend so we can get it all figured out. Okay?"

"Okay," she said. "Okay." He could still hear her grinning. "Bell, I did it," she said. "I really did it."

"I knew you would," he said. "Is Mom home?"

She sighed, and it was if a balloon had developed a not-so-slow leak and deflated. "Yeah."

Bellamy suddenly wished that he hadn't said anything. "Is she supposed to be home?" he asked. 

"I don't know," Octavia said. "She stopped writing down her schedule where I could see it."

"You need to call," he said. "Find out what it is."

"I know," Octavia replied. "Just... I forgot. I got wrapped up in stuff."

"It's okay. Maybe it's her day off." Or maybe it was a bad day and she'd just decide to take the day off, which was okay once in a while, as long as she remembered to call in and tell them that she wouldn't be there, but it tended to happen a little too often, and she tended to forget to call, and then she was left either unemployed or having to scramble to try to make it up to whoever her employer was at the moment. "Is she awake?"

"Yeah," Octavia said. "She's watching TV and folding laundry."

"That's a good sign," Bellamy said. "If she was really bad..."

"I know," Octavia said. "Maybe it is her day off."

"You can always ask," Bellamy said. "But I would give her the good news first."

"She might not think it's so good," Octavia said. "What is she going to do without someone here to look out for her?"

"She'll be fine," Bellamy said. "She's been pretty good lately. She's stepped it up." And by 'stepped it up' he meant that she actually went to the appointments she was supposed to, and took the medication she was prescribed, and it seemed like they'd finally found the right combination of meds and the right dosages, and they were actually helping. 

"That's true," Octavia said. "There was that time around Christmas, but mostly she's been okay."

"Exactly. So go tell her. Even if she's having a bad day, that will help cheer her up." Because sometimes when she got into one of her dark moods, it was because she felt like she'd let them down, that she had failed them as a mother, making them deal with her depression and mood swings, dragging them along on the rollercoaster that was her internal life, and she would beat herself up about it, which only made things worse, not just for her but for them, because they were left trying to reassure her that no, they were fine, that she'd never hurt them by flaking out on going to a concert or a game, that they hadn't resented her for having to learn how to cook (mostly in the microwave, but even so) when they were barely old enough to reach the countertops because they could never be sure whether she would be feeling up to cooking them dinner or packing them lunch, that it was totally fine that sometimes she'd lost her job because she'd just stopped showing up, and they'd seen the stacks of mail piling up with increasingly angry warnings on the outside: Reminder turned into Second Notice turned into Third Notice turned into FINAL NOTICE in big red letters. That hadn't damaged them at all, really.

But they'd made it through, and now they were pretty much grown up and starting their own lives, and if the specter of ending up like her haunted them any time they were in a bad mood, well... every family had problems, right? They kept tabs on each other, and they were the first to get on the other's case when it seemed like a bad day had dragged on a little too long. 

So far, so good. And now Octavia would be getting out of that house, too, and that was good for her. Bad for Mom, maybe... but good for her, and that was the most important thing.

"Okay," Octavia said. "I'll go tell her."

"If you need me," Bellamy said. "You know where to find me." He hoped that she wouldn't, though. Not that he minded talking to his little sister, or helping her when she had a problem... he just didn't want there to be a problem. He hoped that his mother was okay, that it was just her day off and that's why she was home, and that she would be happy for Octavia. But there was always the possibility that it was a bad day, and finding out that her second (and last) child would be leaving her in the fall would tip her over the edge. 

"I know," Octavia said. "Thanks, Bell."

"Welcome," he said. "Love you."

Octavia made gagging sounds on the other end of the line, and Bellamy rolled his eyes and hung up. It wasn't until an hour later, when he got a text from Octavia that said, 'Day off, she's okay, already making packing lists' that he stopped worrying... mostly. Sometimes overly happy was as bad as depressed, but if it meant that she wasn't wringing her hands about being abandoned he would take it.

They talked or texted every day, but it was a little over a week later when Octavia told him that her welcome packet arrived. It was a Thursday, so he immediately cleared his schedule for the weekend so that he could go home. He knew that he should make more of an effort to get home, considering it was only a couple of hours away, but the thing about his house was that it was the kind of place that once you were there, sometimes you felt like you couldn't escape. Or maybe it was only him, but he was pretty sure it was O as well, and any time he went back he felt like he might get sucked back in and never be able to leave. So he didn't go home much. 

His last class on Friday was in the early afternoon (he'd tried really hard to not have any Friday classes at all, but it hadn't quite worked out) so he packed his bag ahead of time and left it in his car so that he could take off as soon as class was over. The drive was long, but not too long, and he kind of liked the alone time. That was the one problem with college, he'd decided – there was never any getting away from people. He'd lived in the dorms freshman year, and then in the frat house after that, and there was _always_ someone up, _always_ someone around... and sometimes that was good, when it was the middle of the night and you couldn't sleep and you didn't want to be left alone with your own thoughts, but sometimes it drove him crazy. 

When he pulled into the driveway, Octavia was already waiting for him on the front porch. The house looked a little worse for the wear, and he knew what he would be doing over the summer. His stomach clenched a little as he got out of the car, instantly on alert about why she would be waiting outside instead of in. "Is she...?" He didn't see the car in the driveway, but that didn't necessarily mean anything if she'd gone out the night before and someone had driven her home. He had thought – hoped – that they were past that, but you never knew.

"She's fine," Octavia said. "She's at work. I just..." She shrugged. "I just wanted to wait outside. Fresh air, all of that. It's good for me, right?" She grinned. 

"Right," he agreed, and wrapped her in a hug. "What's that?" She was holding a big envelope, the edges slightly crumpled with how tightly she was holding it.

"The packet," she said. 

"You haven't opened it?"

"No," she said. "I was waiting for you."

"Why?" Bellamy asked. "I said I would help you sort it out, but that didn't mean that you had to wait for me to actually open it!"

Octavia shrugged. "I just... wanted to wait," she said. "In case."

"In case what?"

"In case it's not good news," she said. "I mean, I know I got in and what's inside the envelope isn't going to change that, but that doesn't mean... Just because I got in doesn't mean that it's actually possible. I... I mean I know the numbers, vaguely, and I know we can't afford it, and..."

"Okay," Bellamy said. "Why don't we go inside?"

Octavia hesitated.

"What's wrong?" he asked. 

"Nothing. It's just... kind of a mess."

"What do you mean?"

"Mom... decided to do some home improvements," she said. "Only... well..."

Only she'd started them and then the manic (technically hypomanic, but when you were living with it Bellamy wasn't actually sure that there was much of a difference) episode had passed and she'd left things in shambles, unfinished. Maybe seeing to the house wouldn't wait for the summer after all.

"Let's go around back, then," Bellamy said. "Better places to sit." 

"Okay," Octavia agreed. "I'll go grab us some cokes."

"Sure." He walked around the house instead of through it, because even though he would eventually have to go in, he would rather focus on one crisis at a time, and right now Octavia and whether or not she could actually _afford_ to go to school was more pressing than whatever Mom had done to the house. 

Octavia came out the back door a second after he got to the porch, and they sat down at the little table and chairs that hardly got any use, even in the summer, because their house wasn't really the kind of place where you did much entertaining. 

"Let's see it," Bellamy said, holding his hand out for the envelope.

"No," Octavia said. "I'll do it."

Bellamy shrugged. "Whatever you want," he said, and watched her tear the envelope open, drawing out thick sheaf of multicolored papers carefully. He was surprised that they didn't do all of this online, too, by now, but maybe they figured it was important enough stuff that it was good for students, or prospective students, to have it all in writing.

"Okay," Octavia said. "Acceptance letter... form to return saying that you accept the offer..." She flipped through the pages, then closed her eyes. "Okay," she said again. "Moment of truth."

The Financial Aid award letter. She looked at it, then stared, and finally the silence got to be too much and Bellamy reached over to pull it from the pile and look at it himself. His eyes widened. "This is good, O," he said. "This is _great_." It wasn't quite the nearly full ride that he was getting with his athletic scholarship, but it was enough that she wouldn't be completely buried under student loans when she got out. "Academic scholarship – you got into the Honors program, O! – work study... which means it's part of your financial aid but you'll get paid, too... and yeah, some loans, but it's enough, O. It's enough."

"It is?" she asked. "It really is?"

"It really is," Bellamy said, and then he was nearly knocked backwards, chair and all, as she threw herself into his arms, hugging him so tight around the neck he could hardly breathe. "It's okay," he said, when he heard her breath catching. "It's okay, O. It all worked out."

She finally pulled away, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "Okay," she said. "So... what's the rest of it?"

"Housing, probably," Bellamy said. "There's probably information about the Honors program in here for you, and there's probably stuff about clubs and everything else. But the most important things is doing your housing application and deposit—"

" _Another_ deposit?"

"We'll cover it, O. It's okay. But yes, another deposit, to secure your place in the dorms."

"What if I don't _want_ to live in the dorms?" she asked. 

"Where else are you going to live?"

"In the frat house with you?" She grinned.

"Yeah... not happening. Not allowed, for one thing, but just not happening for another. As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to have to insist that you stay as far away from the frat house as possible at all times." He was joking... mostly. 

"A sorority house, then," Octavia said. 

"Not your freshman year," Bellamy said, "and anyway... I don't think that's really your style."

Octavia frowned. "But it's yours?"

"You're not like most girls, O."

The frown deepened. "What the hell does _that_ mean?" she demanded. "I'm a girl. How am I different from other girls? Like girls are some kind of amorphous thing that can just be generalized like that? Like all girls are the same and I somehow don't fit the mold?"

"That's not—" Bellamy sighed. "Fine. You're not like _those_ girls, is that better? At least not like the ones that I've met from the sororities. Which, granted, isn't all of them, and maybe there's a group out there where you would fit in perfectly. They're just not the ones who are likely to show up at our parties."

Octavia didn't stop scowling. "Has anyone ever told you that you can be kind of an ass sometimes?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "You. All the time."

"Well, I'm right. You can be kind of an ass sometimes."

He smirked. "I never said you weren't. But whatever I am, it doesn't change the fact that at least for your freshman year, you'll be living in the dorms. So we might as well get this thing started. And be honest. It's how they match you with a roommate, and if you try to make yourself seem nice, rather than how you really are—"

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Bellamy said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean it like that. I mean if you fill it out trying to make yourself seem like the perfect roommate, like you can get along with anyone and just roll with anything... you're likely to end up miserable. Like if you're a complete night owl and you don't say that, you might get matched with someone who's up at 5 am every morning, doing yoga or pilates or whatever, sunshine salutation when you just rolled into bed two hours ago."

"Okay," Octavia said. "I see your point."

"So just be honest, even if you feel like it's going to make it impossible for them to match you with someone. It won't." 

"Are you going to sit there and watch me do this, keep me honest?" she asked.

"Nah. I'm going to go in and see what Mom's done to the place."

Octavia cringed. "Just... I tried to stop her, okay?"

"Okay," he said, and hugged her one more time before heading inside to see what damage Mom had done.


End file.
